


A Thread In The Tapestry

by Welsh_Woman



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alive Hales, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BAMF John, F/M, Gen, M/M, Protective John, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Tags May Change, Time Travel Fix-It, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-18 05:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13093173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsh_Woman/pseuds/Welsh_Woman
Summary: During a ritual to cleanse the Nemeton, John Stilinski is thrown several years into the past with no concrete way to get back home. He has to deal with the Hale family being alive and well, a vet whoactuallytells him shit, the inside scoop of all supernatural things that happen to come through Beacon Hills......and the knowledge that all of this will be gone in a decade's time.John knows that you should never mess with the past, that it could lead to disaster in the present or something even worse than the tragedy that he left, but how can he stay silent when he knows that it means the utter destruction of a family that he's slowly coming to love like his own?





	1. The Spell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DiscontentedWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscontentedWinter/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would not be possible without the encouragement of [discontentedwinter](http://thisdiscontentedwinter.tumblr.com) and the my absolutely lovely beta [Bri](http://hostileblackwriter.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Be sure to give them lots of love and check out their tumblrs for more awesome stuff!

Johnathan Stilinski knew he shouldn’t have tempted fate.

It had been an idle threat, that day in the police department, when he had growled at Stiles about the time traveling. Even he, a man that had almost _no_ knowledge of the supernatural shitstorm that was their lives, knew that something like _that_ was completely ridiculous.

Granted, he has seen more than a few of Stiles’ friends grow fangs or claws and there was even that one kid with a freaking _tail_ … Nevertheless, John was fairly certain that, amid all of the weirdness and moon watching, time travel was impossible. It was the one solid fact among an ever-shifting worldview that he could cling to.

Then again, he _did_ have that same certainty about werewolves a few years ago, so maybe he shouldn’t have tempted fate _again_.

It didn’t seem like something that he should have planned for: the fact that his son was apparently something called a ‘spark’ and that he had the ability to twist nature or make people _invisible_ of all things, despite how many times he had told Stiles how magical Claudia had seemed at times.

God, there were days when he missed her so much that it felt like a physical ache, more so on the days when he couldn’t _get_ Stiles the almost careless way she did, the days where an unthinking word or two would make Stiles go quiet and either disappear into his room or over to Scott’s house.

Hearing about werewolves and kanimas, and how involved Stiles had been with both things in the past years had almost given him that heart attack that Stiles was always warning him about. But the knowledge of how his son’s magical powers had not only _saved the day_ a few times, it also _protected_ him and everyone around him had thankfully kept it at bay.

(That, and a promise that John almost had to arm-wrestle out of Stiles that he was to be kept updated on supernatural happenings _while_ they were happening, and _not after_.)

So, when a phone call from Deaton came saying that Stiles needed another ‘anchor’ for this spell the pair had been working on, John had been nervous, but not really worried.

That was his first mistake.

His second mistake was not listening to Deaton when he explained the process of this spell and instead watching his son as he interacted with Derek Hale, who was the other ‘anchor’ in this spell for some reason.

Derek hadn’t been John’s favorite person in the beginning of all of this, what with his suspicion in his sister’s death (which Stiles and Scott had apologized for, John made sure of it) and the way that death seemed to follow the boy since then. However, a few nighttime talks with Stiles had shed some light on the boy’s choices and John could tentatively call them friends now.

Yet, John wasn’t sure what, exactly, the relationship between Stiles and Derek was; he knew they were a ‘pack’, but there were times when Derek had flashed what Stiles had called his ‘alpha eyes’ at the boy, only for him to roll his own and tell Derek to get over himself.

It said something that Stiles was able to do that, when the ‘wolves in the group always showed some sort of submission and either stopped what they were doing or did whatever Derek told them to. All John could come up with about what that might be was something he wasn’t really sure he wanted to admit to…

He watches as Stiles leans into Derek’s space, voice pitched low enough that John can’t hear what’s being said, but earnestly enough that he has Derek’s complete attention. Because his back is to John, the older man can’t see what kind of expression Derek’s making, but whatever it is has Stiles grinning before he catches John looking over and rocks back into his own space with a guilty wince.

“I believe that we are ready to begin now.”

Deaton’s voice causes nearly all of them to jump, with Derek merely growling at the veterinarian, something that Deaton doesn’t even raise a brow at. It is a constant conversation topic (that is, when John _can_ get Derek to open up a bit whenever they are working together), whether or not anything can shake the man’s impeccable calm.

All thoughts of wondering if Deaton was another kind of supernatural being or not were pushed to the wayside as the lot of them spread out in the clearing that they had gathered in: Stiles to the north, Deaton to the south, John and Derek to the east and west, respectively.

They get to work.

John’s part was relatively simple: he needed to hold a branch of some sort of herb or plant and wave it through the air in front of his son as he chanted the words of the spell. Deaton and Derek had their own branches to wave where they stood.

The spell, enchantment, _whatever_ it is seems to be going well for the most part… or at least it does until it’s Deaton’s turn to start chanting and Stiles almost immediately begins to jerk and grimace the longer the man speaks.

Unable to see his son in any kind of pain, John almost leaves his spot to comfort him before he’s pulled up by Derek’s voice being hissed across the clearing.

“Don’t! Stiles knew this might happen. You need to stay there.”

He’s about to snap at Derek that he isn’t going to just stand there while his son is in pain, but the look on the ‘wolf’s face stops him. Derek looks to be just as torn as John; a flinch twitches his shoulders every time Stiles jerks in pain, and his hands are gripping his branch so tightly that even John can see the paleness of his knuckles in the dying light.

Swallowing hard, John _tries_ to listen, tries to stay still while Stiles jerks and cries, but it becomes too much after only a few moments. This is his _son_ , he can’t just stand here, he has to help…

“Stiles!”

“John, no!”

Derek’s voice barely registers as John darts forward, fully focused on the way that Stiles’ body is almost bent ~~in~~ double in pain, hand outstretched in some vain attempt to offer some sort of comfort as he shouted at Deaton to _stop chanting_.

In the end, none of that matters; as soon as John’s hand touches his son’s arm, some sort of force blasts him right into one of the trees surrounding the clearing they gathered in. A ringing in his ears and Stiles’ panicked cry of “ ** _DAD_**!” are the last thing he hears before slipping into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

It’s completely dark when John wakes, a plethora of aches and pains making themselves known almost as soon as he opens his eyes, and it’s with a deep groan that he manages to pull himself to his feet.

He’s completely alone in the clearing now, which is something that throws him off for a few moments. But he can hear someone rustling in the bushes near him, so he figures that they just probably went to get the first aid kit. A low throb in his hip makes him infinitely grateful for that, even as he sighs at the thought of Stiles teasing him for how old he’s getting.

“You know I can hear you, kids.” John calls out, trying to figure out just how far he could move before an ache or scrape made itself known. “You can just come out now, I’m fi-”

He’s cut off by the figure finally stepping into the moonlight, a figure that is neither his son, Derek Hale, nor is it Deaton. As a matter of fact, the last time that he’s ever seen them was in a police report, body burned almost beyond recognition…

Julia Hale, mother of Talia and Peter Hale, looks at John in curiosity as the bushes behind her continue to rustle. A grey streak highlights her hair as she shifts forward on almost silent feet.

“Are you lost, dear?”

Unable to speak, John simply stares at the woman in front of him, trying to make sense of what had happened… Deaton said something about how the spell was supposed to balance out the energy that the Nematon had released upon waking up, but that didn’t explain _this_.

“Dear?”

John is just opening his mouth, either to ask how Deaton had found someone that looked enough like one of Derek’s relatives to pull this kind of charade or to start laughing hysterically, as the other side of his mind was insistently chanting _time travel is real, **time travel** is **real** , **time travel is real**_ , when the second person finally bursts from the undergrowth behind maybe-Julia.

It’s a boy, looking about fourteen years old, with brown hair and a wide grin on his face before he catches sight of John and frowns.

“This is private property, who are you?”

“Peter!” Julia rebukes before John can wrap his head around the fact that this little boy is Peter Hale, a hand snapping out to swat the boy on the shoulder. “That was very rude and not how we treat guests! I know I taught you better than that…”

The boy mutters for a few seconds, something that makes his mother narrow her eyes at him. He clears his throat and states, with almost all the sass that his older form carries, “Forgive me for being so rude, my name is Peter Hale. How can I help you?”

“Peter…”

“What? I was nice!”

Tuning out the argument going on in front of him, John tries to figure out why Deaton would think this was funny, but quickly comes to the realization that even if the man had some sort of hidden sense of humor, neither Stiles or Derek would go along with something like this.

Which only left one conclusion.

But that was impossible…

Wasn’t it?

Here he is, however, staring at what appeared to be _a fourteen-year-old Peter Hale_ , every nerve in his body still protesting at the sudden and unnecessary meeting they just had with the dirt floor not an hour earlier.

It’s completely quiet for a good minute and a half before John realizes that the pair in front of him have stopped talking. He looks up just in time for the boy to wrinkle his nose and state, “You look like a hobo.”

Yeah, that’s _definitely_ Peter Hale…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was brought about by  [a tumblr post](http://thisdiscontentedwinter.tumblr.com/post/165825169122/we-have-time-travel-fics-mostly-with-stiles) that my brain went '...you know what...' to, despite the fact that I'm starting to collect WIPs, but it wouldn't go away and I just couldn't help myself.
> 
> Updates may be a bit sporadic, but I hope that you guys will enjoy!
> 
> If it _does_ take too long, feel free to come bug me on  [my tumblr](welshwoman1988.tumblr.com)!


	2. Where There Was Once Shadows And Ash...

The night gets even weirder when John is escorted to the Hale House. He's thrown by the sight of a beautiful Victorian mansion instead of the burnt husk that he had met Derek and Deaton at earlier that day.

(And _why_ is Derek’s ruined home the meet-up spot whenever the lot of them need to get together? John really needs to talk to the city council about either rebuilding the house as a town-wide apology for thinking Derek was a murderer, or tearing it down to make some sort of memorial to the Hale family instead…

Not that he _can_ right now, considering that the building is standing firm and hearty-although missing a few things, like the deck that wraps around the house, for some reason-and who’s going to believe him if he says that this whole area will be nothing but blackened ruins in a decade or more’s time?)

“You’ve been awfully quiet, dear, are you sure you’re alright?”

John wants to laugh at the gentle way that Julia is treating him, at the way Peter seems torn between wanting to act as if he’s above all of this and like John is the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. John can only imagine what he smells like to the pair of them.

Granted, they’ve been really subtle about scenting him and if John hadn’t been spending the past couple of months trying to softly prod Derek into taking a position at the police station, he’d probably miss it altogether.

As it is, John knows exactly what that certain tilt of Julia’s head means and he tries to pull himself together, despite not really knowing how he’s supposed to feel; he’s the poster child for ‘far away from home’ and he’s been seeing things _alive_ and _healthy_ that are nothing but ash and ruin in his time…

“Dear?”

“I’m fine.” John tries a smile, but it just makes Julia’s frown deepen and Peter finally move from his ‘unaffected’ slouch against a tree to stand beside his mother, clearly on the defensive now. It makes John curse before he tries again. “I’m sorry, I just… don’t really know what I’m doing here and… I don’t know what I should say.”

That eases the frowning a bit, but Julia still seems uncomfortable as she nods toward the house, stating, “Well, there’s a landline in the living room; you can call someone to come pick you up and hope everything clears up in the morn-”

A duet of cries interrupts her as a pair of toddlers burst out of the front door, running straight for their mother and slamming so hard into her legs that they nearly bowl her over.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy! Luke took my doll, mommy! Make him give it back!”

“I did _not_! She’s lying! I wasn’t anywhere near her dumb doll!”

“Were _too_! I could smell-”

“ ** _Children_**!” Julia cuts off the fighting with a low growl that John can barely hear, but it still stops the argument in its tracks as both kids immediately drop their gazes to the forest floor. “Ignoring that I distinctly remember putting both of you to bed _hours_ ago, we don’t fight in front of guests, now do we?”

“No, mom.” The pair chorus, eyes darting over to John before snapping back to the ground. There’s a moment of silence before the girl whispers, or at least, does so in that voice that little kids _think_ is whispering, “He smells kinda funny, Mommy. Is he like Uncle Deaton?”

John immediately leans over when he sees the way that both Julia and Peter tense, adding his own ‘whisper’ to the conversation. “You didn’t tell me I smelled! Oh no, did I step in something on the way here? Does Uncle Deaton step in things a lot too? He really should watch where he’s going…”

Julia’s stance loosens as her children giggle at John’s exaggerated tone, but Peter simply narrows his eyes and frowns at him, making John mentally curse as he tries to find some way to salvage the situation.

The _last_ thing that he needs is for someone to think he’s some kind of _hunter_ or anything like that…

“Hey, you two! I told you that you could wait up for Mom if you stayed _inside_ the house! Get back here!”

Swallowing hard, John turns toward the voice and has to brace himself at the sight of a young Talia Hale exiting the house in front of him. Derek’s eyes stare back at him from her face as her gaze darts from her mother, her siblings, and John like she isn’t sure who she should focus on.

“Well, that explains what they’re still doing up.” Julia sighs, the twins giggling and clinging to their mother as Talia hops down past the stairs leading up to the house, making her way toward them with a playful growl.

“Talia…” John’s voice comes out as a shocked gasp, but everyone freezes as if he had just pulled a gun on the poor girl.

It’s another kick to the heart when she pulls Derek’s usual defensive move after a few moments of silence: arms crossed in front of the chest, head tilted in challenge before demanding, “Do I know you?”

Unable to hold back anymore, John finally gives into the hysterical laughter that had been bubbling at the back of his mind ever since he first saw _Julia Hale,_ dead for nearly two decades, walk through a clearing as if she had just stepped away for those years and had decided it was time to come back home…

When John finally comes back to himself, the twins are gone and he’s surrounded by tense werewolves, fingers twitching as if they were just barely keeping themselves from sprouting claws.

It goes without saying that it might be a good idea for him to keep from making any sudden movements for the time being.

Looking up, John meets Talia’s gaze, unable to keep from cataloging all the similarities he can see between her and Derek-same eyes, same facial structure, same way of frowning with mostly her eyebrows…

Laughing once more at the direction his thoughts have gone, no doubt influenced by his recent talks with Stiles, John is suddenly sobered by the realization that this is a time where Derek’s mother is _alive_ , that his family is _still living_! He might just have a chance at stopping a tragedy from happening… something that he _can’t_ do if the Hales think he’s some sort of nutjob or an Eichen House escapee.

“No, I didn’t know you all that well, you were a pretty private person.” John can see that he’s only confusing them further, so he keeps as still as possible as he continues, “I _do_ know your son, though. Arrested him for a crime he didn’t commit once, so sorry about that.”

“I don’t have a son.” Talia sounds more intrigued than defensive, so John counts that as a win even as Peter growls as he finally pushes himself to his feet.

“That’s right, you don’t have one… _yet_ , but you will, and he turns out to be a pretty decent Alpha once he learns to ask for help.”

That’s as far as John gets before there’s a sudden snarling and he’s slammed against a tree with a hand tightening around his throat. A furrowed brow and more teeth than there should be in a human’s mouth are in his face, and oh _God_ , he’s going to die in the past without a way to let Stiles know-

Oh, God! _Stiles isn’t even going to be born_ -!

“ ** _PETER_**! **Let him go**!” The demand has that extra snarl in it that means someone is using their ‘wolf voice’ to give the command, but all John can focus on is the fingers loosening their grip, the teeth moving away from his face, and he breathes in deep to thank Julia…

…only to see her staring unblinkingly at Talia, whose own eyes were slowly fading back into their kaleidoscope hue, looking at John with an expression of bewildered fear.

John is also fighting off his own confusion; weren’t _Alphas_ the only ones that had red eyes…?

“Peter,” Julia’s voice cuts through his musings. She moves forward to place a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, seeming to break her out of her own head as well. “Go call Deaton and let him know that we need to make an emergency appointment. I don’t care how you do it, but we need to see him **_tonight_**.”

Peter makes a grunt of begrudging acknowledgement, like only a teenager can, and lopes towards the house as if he didn’t just have his claws digging into John’s shoulders not two minutes ago. John, however, is too busy watching the other two to feel offended.

Talia had slightly tipped her head when her brother left, something that John has seen the kids do around Derek once or twice (usually after a big argument), so he’s not that surprised when Julia’s hand shifts up further on her throat as she mutters something too low for John to hear.

He knows what Talia is doing anyway:

Submitting. Reestablishing her position in the Pack. Acknowledging her mother as her Alpha.

John fights off a shiver at the thought that he might already be changing things, and not all for the better…because the fact that there even _needed_ to be a reestablishment in the first place meant that it hadn’t been _Julia_ that had told Peter to back off...

It had been _Talia_.


	3. The Doctor Is In

It takes a few minutes before everything is calm enough for Julia and Talia to make their way back to the house, John is careful not to make too much noise behind them. It’s not that he thinks that they’ll lash out at him for this, but the tension in the air has become almost palpable and John really doesn’t want to risk accidentally setting anyone off…

…well, no more than he already has.

After being rushed past the living room too fast for him to really get a good look at it, John is met at the kitchen door by Peter, who informs his mother that Deaton has been brought up to speed and that he is on his way. Julia nods distractedly at him before pushing John into a chair with a firm hand on his shoulder and a commanding, “Wait here while I get something for us all to drink.”

Turns out Derek didn’t get that forceful tone  _just_  from his mother after all…

The twins, having been sent to bed and knowing that there is grown-up stuff going on right in their kitchen, are peeking into the room from where it leads out into a hallway. John must smile at the way they try to smother their giggles each time he catches them looking into the room - which, they’re only what, five? It happens a fair bit - and he concentrates more on ‘catching’ them peeking in than anything else that might be happening right now.

It’s… it’s a  _lot,_  and John is still fighting the urge to either start rambling in a way that would put Stiles’ previous long-winded rants to shame or start apologizing for letting something that had always sat with him wrong go for  _years_ , until Laura Hale ending up in pieces in the Preserve, Derek came to town looking for revenge and found betrayal instead, then there was the whole thing with the kanima…

“Hey! You two were sent to bed! Don’t make me duct tape you in there!” Talia finishes off her words with a playful snap, making the twins giggle like mad before they hightail it up the stairs, sounding like a pair of rhinos as they go.

“You’re going to have to teach me how to do that, Stiles barely listens to me as is and always tries to sweet talk his way out of trouble when he  _does_  get caught.” John mutters a soft ‘thank you’ towards the cup she places in his hands, a light sip telling him that it’s hot chocolate.

“I’m pretty sure that it’s mostly because I’ll  _actually_  duct tape them in there, despite Mom yelling at me for it.” Talia remarks with a wolfish grin. “Stiles, huh? That’s an… interesting name. Are all names like that… where you’re from?”

It’s a little heartening that someone else is thrown by all this as John is, and he must shake his head at the constant question concerning his son’s name.

“Well, his real name is even more of a mouthful, and it’s less likely anyone that knows how to say it properly. Hell, even  _I_  have a bit of trouble with it some days, giving how rarely I say it. It was a bit of a hassle at school, with kids being how they are, and then one day, my son comes home announcing that he’s going to be known as ‘Stiles’ now.”

“And he’s friends with…?”

Talia trails off, seemingly unable to say ‘my son’ and again, John can’t really blame her. From what he remembers of her, Derek and Laura had been a bit of a surprise, and he’s pretty sure that all she’s been thinking about now is law school and finishing top of her class.

“Well, they had a bit of a bumpy start-”

Which is a rather gross simplification of ‘Peter bit his best friend after they were wandering around in the woods looking for a dead body, which turned out to be your  _daughter_ , who they then  _dug up_  and got Derek arrested for’, but John  _really_  doesn’t want to get into that part of the story right now…

“-but I think that they’ve really learned to rely on each other.”

Although, given the way that Stiles was leaning into Derek when all of this started, and that Derek was one of the focal points for this spell, John is suspicious that there might be more than just friendly feelings there… at least, where Stiles is concerned.

Talia hums thoughtfully, looking down into her cup like she could see the future that John is talking about inside of it. “And… what about me? Am I… am I a good mother to Derek? Does he have any siblings? Or is he an only child? You haven’t mentioned anyone else…”

John stalls at this, knowing that his heart has sped up at those questions from the way that he can see Julia’s back tensing up from over Talia’s shoulder. What is he supposed to say here?

Yes, Derek had  _a whole bunch_  of siblings, but they all died in a fire he feels responsible for?

You were a wonderful mother to Derek, he’s constantly wondering if what he’s doing or saying is something you would be proud of. He can never ask, though, because you  _also_  died in the same fire that took the rest of his family?

He did have Laura, his  _sister_ , for a little while afterward. Unfortunately, she was killed by  _your brother_ , who was stuck in a waking coma for ten years and went insane?

Thankfully, before he can say any of that, there’s the sound of tires on gravel and Peter intones, “Deaton’s here.” with a slightly ominous flair that John is sure the little shit is doing to wind them all up even more than before.

Julia also seems wise to Peter’s dramatics, as she gives her son a look that John remembers seeing on Claudia’s face when dealing with Stiles a few times, before leaving the kitchen to greet Deaton as he knocks on the door.

“Ah, Xavier! Thank you so much for coming on such short notice!”

John blinks. Xavier? He thought that they said Deaton-

That’s as far as that thought gets before a tall, dark-skinned man wanders in the kitchen, a shock of white at his temples the only thing that hints at his age. The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes crinkle as he speaks to Julia, a boy darting out from behind him to make a beeline for Talia almost before this ‘Xavier’ even makes it past the threshold.

“Hello, Talia.”

“Hello, Alan. I didn’t realize that you were home this week.”

“Yeah, we managed to get back a little earlier than normal and I thought I’d stop by with Dad when your brother called-”

John only has a moment to absolutely  _gobsmacked_  at the fact that a young Alan Deaton sounds almost eerily like Stiles did back when he was trying to get Lydia Martin to notice him before his attention is pulled away by a sudden gasp that has him looking back at the first man again.

The man – Xavier, apparently – looks at John like he’s both intrigued and deeply worried by his presence, something that does nothing to sooth the fear that has been plaguing John since this entire thing started.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you?”

John smiles, holding out his hands in the universal sign of ‘you don’t say’ and states, “Yeah, just another day in the life of a sheriff in the know. Think you could help me with that?”

The crow’s feet are back as the man looks at him in that penetrating way that seems to be a family trait, although this one has the distinct feeling of wanting to help rather than seeing where the chips are falling behind it.

“I most certainly will try.”


End file.
